


Sister Cities

by implicated2



Category: Parks and Recreation, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Crossover, Dimensional fog, Gen, Night Vale Community Radio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/implicated2/pseuds/implicated2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Announcing the launch of Night Vale's Sister Cities program...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sister Cities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haywire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haywire/gifts).



> When I saw that we'd matched on both Parks & Rec and Welcome to Night Vale, I couldn't resist giving this crossover a try. I hope you enjoy it! <3

_Leave your home. Leave your dearest friend. Leave footprints on the souls of many. Leave long, jagged footprints everywhere you go._

_  
Welcome to Night Vale._

 

“Guys?” Ben says, and Ann looks guiltily back to the table where she, Ben, and Leslie are playing Trivial Pursuit: U. S. Presidents Edition. “There’s something weird out there.”

“I know,” Ann says. She’s been trying to pay attention to the game—it’s their Five Weeks and Six-and-a-Half Days Until Ann Leaves Forever game night—but Leslie is the only one who knows any of the answers. Besides, the view out the window really is distracting. There’s some kind of fog in the air, dark and thick and unsettlingly red. It looks like the despair of a thousand motherless children screaming to be held. Which is weird, because what does Ann know about the despair of motherless children? Besides those emails she sometimes gets from UNICEF, anyway.

Leslie stands up from her chair when she sees the window. “Okay, that’s not good.”

“Yeah,” Ann says. “It’s like fog, but gross.”

“And I’m just sitting here playing board games while gross fog descends over Pawnee. What am I thinking?” Leslie pushes in her chair and walks toward the front door. “I’m going out there.”

Ben stands up too. “I’ll go with you.”

Ann follows. Even though there’s nothing Leslie can do about the fog, going along is the right thing to do. Besides, at least it’s a change from trying to guess the name of Lady Bird Johnson’s goldfish.

Lot 48 is dank with the fog, and it smells sickly sweet, like a pie that rotted halfway through baking. Ann hangs back, shivering.

“Does anyone else smell that?” Ben asks.

Leslie puts her head in her hand. “This is what I bring to this city. Stinky red fog. Ann, I deserve to have you leave me.”

“Leslie,” Ann says, “I’m not leaving because of you.”

“And the fog is not your fault,” Ben adds.

“Of course it’s not,” Leslie says, her arms beginning to flap wildly. “But that’s not what Joan Calamezzo is going to say. That’s not what Councilman Jamm is going to say. That’s not even what Crazy Ira and the Douche are going to say.”

Ben gives her an odd look. “Because Crazy Ira and the Douche don’t talk about anything that doesn’t involve fart noises. Look, Leslie—” He stops. “Leslie?”

Leslie is… wavering. The parts of her touching the red fog are flickering like a bad fluorescent bulb.

“Leslie,” Ann says, reaching for her. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, god,” Leslie calls out, as her whole body begins to fade. “Run!”

Ann looks at Ben. Ben nods in answer, and the two of them leap into the fog.

 

_Listeners. Our sister cities program has been an unexpected success. Visitors from Pawnee, Indiana, are arriving through our dimensional fog portals in very impressive numbers. Wow. They really wanted to come to Night Vale. Can you imagine leaving Night Vale behind, knowing there was no way you’d ever be able to return? That is just what these plucky citizens—well, former citizens—have done with their hometown of Pawnee. I just spoke to Tom Haverford, one of the new arrivals, to find out what made him decide to come here, and do you know what he told me?_ Dude, _he said—isn’t that sweet that he called me “dude”?— _Dude, why would I voluntarily come to a place where the only spa in town is reserved for a giant sentient rock?_ Oh, Tom. Keep playing it cool. We’re glad you came. _

 

When Ann, Ben, and Leslie flicker back into existence again, they’re standing in what looks like an empty car lot. The fog is thicker here, and the only discernible light is coming from… is that a glowing raccoon?

“Okay,” Ann says, shivering and looking around them. “This isn’t Lot 48 anymore.”

“Yeah,” Ben agrees. “I don’t even think it’s Pawnee.”

“I abandoned them,” Leslie says. “I abandoned Pawnee in our time of need.”

“You didn’t abandon anyone,” Ann says, and then suddenly there is a light.

“Uh, what—” Ben says, pointing “—are those?”

Two beings, tall and majestic, glide over to Ann, Ben, and Leslie, shimmering in the fog. Ann has the weirdest feeling of being safe and loved.

“Uh,” she calls to the two figures as they approach. “Hello?”

She thinks she sees one of the beings bow its head. Then it reaches out a warm, shining hand, and Ann takes hold of it. In the corner of her eye, she sees Leslie take the other hand. Ben ends up holding hands with the second shimmering creature, and they all walk together to a stucco house, its porch full of vines.

An old woman opens the door. “More visitors, Erika?”

Both shining figures nod in answer.

“Well,” the old woman says. “Bring them in. Cecil’s on the radio. I’ll put on tea.”

 

_An update on our sister cities program. There are a lot of Pawnee, Indiana, residents coming to visit. In fact, the Sheriff’s Secret Police are having trouble keeping track of all of these brave newcomers! What is it about us, Pawnee?—be honest. Is it the beautiful desert weather? Whatever it is, you really like it. And that’s a good thing, because you’re staying forever!_

_Old Woman Josie, down by the car lot, says she’s taken in three guests from our new sister city, and they work for the municipal government. Can you believe it? And they weren’t even wearing their ceremonial sashes! John Peters—you know, the farmer—met two men who work in radio. Well, he’d better tell them Night Vale Community Radio already has an announcer. And he’s not giving up his spot. Oh, and the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home tells me that there are some Pawnee residents staying with you too. But then, you already knew that._

 

The voice on the radio fades into a traffic report that seems to have nothing to do with traffic. Ann eyes Ben and Leslie. They’re all sitting around a cracked wood dining table in the old woman’s house. “What does he mean— _you’re staying forever_?”

Ben frowns. “Maybe the fog only takes you one way.”

“Or maybe the fog has lifted,” Leslie suggests. “Does dimensional fog lift like regular fog?” She scowls. “Why didn’t I know about dimensional fog? Eleanor Roosevelt would have known about dimensional fog.”

Ann looks out the window. The fog is still there, thick and red. Is there even supposed to be fog in deserts? This place is beyond weird.

Erika brings a teapot, and Erika’s companion—whose name also seems to be Erika? Maybe Ann has missed something—sets down cups and saucers. The tea is a vibrant purple and smells of hibiscus and… Ann’s hopes and fears? That can’t be right. She takes a sip. The taste is sharp and bitter. Ben, she notices, spits some of the tea right back into the cup.

“Erika?” Ann says, just before the two figures disappear out the doorway. They both look back. “Where are we?”

The first Erika nods solemnly. The second sighs regally. Then they both glide out of the room.

“Hey!” Leslie calls after them, pointing an accusatory finger.

There is no answer, but a moment later, Josie returns. “I have lived here a very long time,” Josie says, taking a seat and pouring herself a cup of purple tea. “What do you want to know?”

 

_Listeners, I’m hearing reports that some of our visitors **do** want to return to Pawnee. April Ludgate, an animal control officer, told Larry Leroy, out on the edge of town, _ Look, this place is cool and all, but you can’t just bring people into your town and keep them there. That’s creepy. Except Ann. You can keep Ann.

_Mayor Pamela Winchell, at a press conference earlier today, announced, while grinding a microphone to pieces with her bare hands:_ There is no way to leave. The dimensional fog is one-way. There is no dimensional fog. _She then proceeded to pelt the audience with shards of plastic, wire fragments, and those little beetles that live in recording equipment. Aww. Microphone beetles! I love those little guys._

_Hang on. Carlos just texted me to say—_

_Listeners. There’s something I have to investigate. I take you, Night Vale residents, and Pawnee newcomers, to the weather._

 

“Well,” Ben says, “on the upside, Leslie, you definitely haven’t abandoned the residents of Pawnee. Apparently, they’re all here.”

“And on the downside,” Ann says, starting to get agitated, “we’re stuck in some desert town full of weird government spies and… and tea that tastes like feelings.”

Ben perks up. “You noticed that too?”

Ann pushes back her chair and rises to her feet. “Okay. This is fine. We’re just going to ask Josie, or Erika, or the other Erika, where the nearest airport is, and we’re going to go there, and we’re going to fly home, and there’s going to be no more stinky red fog, and everything is going to be fine. Right?”

“Right,” Ben says. “Well, assuming there’s actually some way to get to an airport from here.”

Leslie is making a worryingly familiar face. “What?” Ann asks her.

“Nothing,” Leslie says, too brightly.

“What?” Ann asks again.

“It’s just…” Leslie begins. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to leave.”

Ann and Ben look at her.

“Lots of people from Pawnee are here,” Leslie continues. “And maybe Night Vale could use a nurse, or a city manager, or an assistant director of parks.”

Ann takes her seat again. This is going to be a long conversation.

“Leslie,” Ben says gently, “this is a town that has a huge park that nobody can go inside.”

“Which is exactly why they need my help!” Leslie says. “And your help, Ann, to treat all the injuries people get when they do go to the park. And yours too, Ben, to… manage the hospital bills? Okay, that one’s kind of a stretch, but the point is, we could stay here, and we could do great things, and then we’d all live in Night Vale and Ann would never have to move away.”

_Oh._ “Leslie,” Ann says, with a soft sigh. “I’m going to move. I hate that that means leaving you, but living a few hours apart is better than living somewhere with secret police and… and microphone beetles.”

Leslie’s shoulders sink, and she looks down at the table. “Ann,” she says, “wild, howling feral dog of my heart—and I’m only calling you that because it somehow seems appropriate here—I know. You have to move. But I hate it, and I’d brave a million microphone beetles if it meant getting to stay near you. And secret police. And forbidden parks. And cups of whatever this weird tea is.”

Ann’s hand goes to her heart. “That’s incredibly sweet,” she says. “And kind of gross. But sweet. Thank you.”

Then, silently, the two Erikas glide back into the room, and again, they take Ann, Ben, and Leslie’s hands.

 

_Listeners, Carlos has discovered something scientifically impressive but emotionally bittersweet. While most dimensional fog is indeed one-way, there is a patch by Radon Canyon that can transport our guests back the way they came. Some of our visitors from Pawnee have already made their way to this, their last portal home. We thought they’d come to stay with us, their new sister city. But either these guests never meant to come to Night Vale or—and it pains me to think of it—they came to meet us and they found us lacking._

_Visitors, let me say on a personal note that I am deeply sorry to see you go. And if it’s that thing I said about the radio station, I take it back. There are plenty of jobs available here. And I’m sure some of you plucky young people would make excellent interns._

 

Over Lot 48, the fog is lifting. Ann looks around, feeling like Dorothy after she’s clicked the heels of her ruby slippers. “Wow,” she says. “Did that really just happen?”

“Oh, Ann.” Leslie puts her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry. That wasn’t how I wanted Five Weeks and Six-and-a-Half Days Until Ann Leaves Forever game night to go.”

“Yeah, the fog still isn’t your fault, Leslie,” Ben points out.

“And we can always have another game night,” Ann adds. “Or maybe a movie night? I’ll pick the movie.” She’s pretty sure having endured even half a game of Trivial Pursuit: U. S. Presidents Edition entitles her to make the selection.

“Five Weeks and Five-and-a-Half Days Until Ann Leaves Forever movie night?” Leslie suggests. “Definitely. No stinky fog allowed. God. Do you think everyone made it back okay? Do you think anyone wanted to stay?”

Ann tries to imagine anyone she knows from Pawnee staying in Night Vale. “I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe.”

“Uh, guys?” Ben says. He’s taken his phone out of his pocket and is holding it to his ear. “I think I’m still getting Night Vale radio on my phone.”

Ann and Leslie lean their heads toward the phone. The sound is faint but unmistakable.

 

_…and I leave you, Night Vale, as I have left you many times before: dusky and sisterless. Good night, Night Vale. Good night._

_  
Stay tuned for the sound of two men laughing while a machine imitates human flatulence._

 

“Wait,” says Ann. “Does that mean who I think it means?”

“I… think so?” Ben cocks his head at the phone.

“Well,” Leslie says, “only one way to find out.”

Slowly, dazedly, and smelling faintly of dimensional fog, they head inside together to listen to the voices of their sister city.


End file.
